


Wish I Were...

by minimalistdreamer



Series: Quarantine Fics [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, No Dialogue, Pining Keith (Voltron), Possibly Unrequited Love, Song fic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimalistdreamer/pseuds/minimalistdreamer
Summary: "Why would you ever kiss me?I'm not even half as pretty.You gave her your sweater.It's just polyester, but you like her better.Wish I were..."--Keith remembers the first time he saw Lance...Song Fic: inspired by the song "Heather" by Conan Gray.
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Quarantine Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842442
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Wish I Were...

**Author's Note:**

> Here comes the angst. I've never actually written fanfiction about Voltron before, and I didn't even watch the last season because of how it ended - but I do know what happens and I hope that's enough. Enjoy!

Keith remembers when he first saw Lance. 

It was the first day at the Garrison, and the kid who proclaimed himself _The Tailor_ had started to boast loudly about how he was going to kick "this simulation in the ass!" Keith had just shoved through the crowd to his new dorm room. 

Lance had continued to boast, being extremely confident for a young teenager who was thrown into a completely new environment - and based on how his accent - was being taught in another language than what he was used to. Keith was observant like that. 

Keith had seen only glimpses of the same boy that had boasted so loudly that one day, he himself being too wrapped up in whatever he was doing. But then he was expelled and cast out of the Garrison, forced to retreat to his father's house in the desert. The house that was only a shack now. 

The days passed slowly. And then destiny came knocking on his crumbling door.

* * *

Keith couldn't remember when he started to think as Lance as a friend, and then as more. It could have been any of the number of times that they were forced to work together and made Lance treat him less like a rival and more like a friend. It could have been when Lance would turn to the other paladins, his eyes lighted up and his smile gleaming. It could be from the way that he looked at Allura like she was the sun to his Earth.

Keith hated himself for wanting Lance to look at him that way.

* * *

He still remembered, that day in December. Lance had seen him shivering in his thin jacket while sitting on the couch. Pidge had made the castle feel like it was winter: snow flurries flying down at a click of a button, the AC always cranked up with no way to lower it, and holly berry and mistletoe substitutes hanging from random doorways. 

But Keith had no clothing that protected him from the harsh chill and was too stubborn to ask like the others. And Lance was just _sitting_ _there_ , his jacket sleeves pulled over his palms, his cheeks rosy pink, and his lips so chapped Keith could see them from across the couch. 

Lance had looked over, seeing Keith trying to press his jacket closer to his sides as if to trap the heat to his body. He had walked over to Keith and took off his sweater that was underneath his jacket, jumping next to Keith. His side pressed against Keith's own. Immediately, warmth spread through his body. Lance had handed over his sweater, insisting that his "mullet wasn't able to warm him up" (which didn't even make sense?) so Lance had to. 

Despite Keith's protests, Lance's long arms were able to wrap his sweater around Keith's shoulders. He claimed that it "looked better on you than me." 

They sat there in comfortable silence, Keith feeling warmer than he had in weeks, for only a moment before Allura walked in.

She had asked if they had seen Pidge, or Hunk, or Conan, or Shiro, or whoever. Keith didn't hear her. He instead saw the way how Lance's eyes lit up, how his posture became straighter. Keith burrowed himself in Lance's sweater, wishing to be anywhere but there. But he was there and he was forced to watch how Lance's retort slipped from his tongue like water. How his chapped lips moved in a way that made Keith's ears turn red. Hearts could have appeared in Lance's irises and Keith wouldn't be even surprised.

What a sight for sore eyes, he thought. Lance's eyes were a brighter blue than the sky on the clearest of days. She's got him mesmerized, and Keith sat there feeling like he was dying. And he sat there watching as Allura left and Lance chased after her, calling back about how Keith could borrow his sweater for the rest of the day. 

Keith sat there, watching the door where Lance had just exited with sad eyes. Lance's sweater fell off his shoulders, and no matter how much Keith shivered - he didn't put it back on.

* * *

Keith sat on top of the Black Lion, his wolf at his side. He stared at the sunset, willing for the light to blind him, for him not to see how Allura started to return Lance's looks. But then Lance appeared, adorned in pots and pans and other kitchen items that should not make him look as good as he does. And all Keith can do is clench his fists so tight that his palms began to bleed to prevent himself from throwing himself off the lion. 

He felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest as Lance spoke so kindly of Allura. He was never going to be spoken of like that, by no one. Lance was special that way -he could spew poems about Allura's smile but couldn't think of one good thing to say about Keith.

Keith could think only one way to describe Lance's smile. It reminded him of peppermint. Peppermint candies that he was given as a kid when he was being good in a foster home. It made his tongue swell up and itch but it meant he wasn't as much as an asshole. Peppermint is the perfect way to describe Lance's smile.

* * *

 _Why would you ever kiss me?_ Keith sat on his bed, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. Trying to prevent the tears from escaping. His room was empty, nothing but his huffing breaths to stop the silence from suffocating him. _I'm not even half as pretty._

Lance's sweater sat in the corner, gathering dust and mocking him. Keith had kept it, taking through space, through every hardship they've suffered through. It didn't smell like Lance anymore. It didn't bring him warmth as it did all that time ago. It smelled like dust and loneliness and tears. But every time Keith was going through something, he wouldn't go to the others - he would go to the sweater. Keith would lay on his bed (much like he was doing now) and press the weathered fabric to his chest, trying not to cry. 

_I wish I were..._

* * *

Keith could only watch as Lance and Allura stood. His hand around her shoulder and Allura's arm around his waist. He watched as her finger drew a circle on Lance's hip. 

His fingers burned cold, aching from phantom pain, aching from seeing Allura rub a circle into Lance's hip, seeing her fingers seek under his shirt, to the tan torso underneath. The cold traveled, freezing him in his place with his gaze on Lance. His expression soured.

Lance stood there, Allura's head on his shoulder, memorized. His eyes bright.

How dare Lance look at her like that, look at her like she's the entire world to him while Keith felt like dying 5 feet away? How could he not see how Keith was crumbling, drowning in his own sadness, own pity?

No one else noticed either. Good.

He wanted to hate Allura. He wanted to wish that she would break Lance's heart and leave in pieces. Broken in half like how Keith's heart was. But he couldn't, because Allura was a literal angel. Lance had literally caught her from falling out of the heavens, clad in a beautiful gown and everything. 

So instead Keith hated that Lance's eyes were as bright as that day in December. Keith hated that he was stuck to watch from the sidelines.

* * *

Keith continued to simply watch. Yes, he fought, and he kid and he led. But he watched over everything else. He watched and said nothing as he dug his fingers into his biceps, willing for the pain, the cold to go away. Perhaps it was his own mind reminding him of how warm he was with Lance pressed beside him. How he will never feel that warmth again. 

He watched as Lance gave Allura his jacket, he watched her wear it. He watched, remembering the sweater in the corner of his room - knowing that Lance didn't. 

But why would Lance ever pick him? Keith could see flashes of him and Lance, and then of Lance and Allura. The soft smiles, the kind glances, those were between Lance and Allura. Keith and Lance's interactions were filled with hard stares, snappy comebacks, bitten lips, and sweaty brows. One showed love, one didn't.

Keith was there for Lance when Allura was with Lotor, he was his friend. But Lance was Keith's rock, he was his stability. 

But Lance didn't know. And Keith didn't tell him. So things continued on.

* * *

Keith sat on his bed, his hands cupped before him. He could feel Lance's heart ripping in two, one half already in Allura's dead hands. 

She was dead. 

Keith had wished it, in his darkest moments, but he had never hoped to see it through. 

But she was dead, and he was there - in his darkroom. The sweater in the corner. In his own cupped hands, his own torn apart heart lay. He cried into it, allowing the tears to flow. He cried because he was selfish. Because he was upset that she was gone. He cried because he's been holding it in forever and the dam just broke. 

* * *

Keith stood before Allura's statue. Her stone gaze unwavering, staring off to the distance. Her hand outstretched. For what? Keith didn't know. He's been there for hours, standing before her, just staring.

He wiped his hand across the pedestal, wiping away the dust to reveal the inscription underneath. 

He was back in the cave, watching the lions light up, watching Lance stare at Blue with wide eyes and a funny quip. He remembered his whoop of excitement. 

But now, Keith stood alone. He stood alone with a runny nose and teary eyes, wishing to be Allura. And then he spoke for the first time in hours, he spoke the words that have been swimming around his mind for months but have never passed his lips. He spoke to Allura, but more so to Lance, saying what he's never had the courage to say before.

"Why would you ever pick me," he whispered to himself. His voice cracking at every word. "I'm not even half as pretty..." 

Keith turned, not being able to look upon Allura's harsh face any longer. "You gave her your jacket, it's just polyester, but you like her better." 

He choked out a sob, realizing how pathetic he was, crying to a statue. His tears on his cheeks did not cease, dripping from his chin. But the sadder thing was, Keith would have happily taken Allura's place for what she got with Lance. He would have given his life for a week of Lance looking at him like he was memorized by the sight of him. 

_"I wish I were.."_

Keith turned, finding Lance before him. A flower in his hands, tears on his cheeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> I cried, did you cry? I cried.
> 
> I hope you liked it!


End file.
